


Wandering Limbs, Eager Hands

by larrywhylinson



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blow Jobs, First Time, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Porn with Feelings, Tent Sex, in which i use every light metaphor to describe harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 10:10:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/660760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larrywhylinson/pseuds/larrywhylinson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While on a group camping trip, Harry and Louis find themselves alone, and Louis is forced to discuss his feelings...most of which he hasn't even sorted out himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wandering Limbs, Eager Hands

**Author's Note:**

> This was beta'd by the precious Mikayla (iamaveryprettypony on tumblr), the title is from the gorgeous Kimbra song called "Wandering Limbs", and I really hope you like it...

     Like honey, the sun pours itself over the empty field, drenching everything in light, in that slow yet inevitable way.  Louis wonders how it tastes. He wonders if Harry would taste just as sweet. He looks over at Harry for a moment, and decides the answer must be yes.  Harry’s lips are like two cherries, placed perfectly on his perfect face, and he’s like a walking fairytale.  Everything about him must taste like sugar, and Louis’ stomach churns at the idea that he’d never know for certain, that he’d be trapped in his imagination.  He tries to focus on the good.

    Sunlight, he decides.  Harry is like the Sun.  For weeks, Louis tried to find something comparable to Harry.  You have to do that sometimes, in order to understand something.  You take a metaphor, and you dissect it… you pick it apart in order to make sense of things.

    Louis fancied himself as someone who picked up on things fairly quickly, but this, this was different.  Nothing seems to work right anymore.  Not since Harry.

    He’s tried to tell himself that Harry’s just a person, but it just doesn’t work.  There’s something about Harry that sets him apart from everyone else… the sunlight thing.  It comes off of him in rays.  When everything else is burning to the ground, Harry comes in and creates something beautiful. 

    Friends, family, money — when all of that is wrong, Harry comes in, a beacon, shining light on everything.  He’s wise beyond his years, and a day can’t seem to go by without Louis being awestruck about the fact that Harry Styles is an actual thing.  He is a thing… he lives and breathes and walks and wants to spend time with Louis.

     Louis doesn’t know what’s worse, though: the fact that these feelings are springing up faster than he can make sense of them, or the fact that he has no idea how Harry really feels about him.

    It’s confusing, it’s exciting, and something about it hurts a tiny bit, but it’s all worth it.  If he had to begin his life again, and he had to choose between a possibly unrequited love for Harry or not knowing Harry at all, without a question, he’d always choose Harry.  There’s some sort of payoff of just being in this boy’s presence.

    Louis freezes for a moment when he hears Harry rustling beside him.  He lies still, hoping that Harry isn’t about to leave.  It feels like they’re in a place of their own out there, and the others back at the campsite seem miles away.

       It’s both relieving and alarming when Harry turns on his side to face Louis.  At least he hasn’t left, Louis thinks.  Harry’s pale, lanky arm supports his head as he stares quizzically at Louis.  This shouldn’t make it hard for Louis to breathe, but it does.  His eyes are transfixed on the sky, now painfully so.  Being mildly aware of the hypnotizing power of Harry’s green eyes, Louis decides that it’s much safer to look at cloud formations.  His peripheral vision would suffice, thank you very much.

       Within moments, everything seems to slowly fall silent.  It’s as if Harry pulls the plug on the sound, solely with the power of his stare.  He has a tendency of doing that, making things stop—time in particular.  He makes Louis’ senses fail and his wires cross.  Harry isn’t an obnoxious person in the slightest, but he has this presence.  In fact, Louis learned that Harry prefers the background.  He lights up like something electric when he sees other people happy.  His whole being was a sparkplug, whether he liked it or not.  Everything he does is a lightshow.

       “Penny for your thoughts,” Louis says as flatly as he can.  His voice is begging to tremble.

       “I reckon they're worth more than that,” Harry says, smiling impossibly wide.

      “Humor me, Harold. I’m poor as shit.”

       Without any more prompting, Harry dives in, laughing before he speaks.

       “Fair enough. I was just thinking, right,” he says, and the sound of his voice is enough to make Louis want to kiss him.  They had been quiet for so long, that Louis had almost forgotten the feeling it gave him.  Harry’s voice was rough and worn.  It sounded like it belonged to someone who had been through a lot.  It sounded like safety.

       “You were thinking…” Louis says, urging him on.  He tries his best to sound bored, but every fiber of his body is tuned to perceive what Harry is saying.

       “I was thinking about fate,” Harry says simply, “and how things happen…like how they seem to just work themselves out.”

       Louis feels his throat tightest as he preps himself for what he’s about to hear.  He’s certain that Harry has met someone, some pretty blonde, and he’s going to have to suffer through a detailed description of what makes her so much better for Harry than he is.  Fantastic.

       “Go on then, mate. Spit it out,” Louis says.

       “Like, things are really good right now, don’t you think? Like, at this very moment, as I’m speaking to you, things are just good.  I was having a really shit time before I met you.”

       Louis furrows his brow at that. He drudges through his memories to see if he remembers every seeing Harry upset.  Nothing.

       Louis finally says, “What, were there not enough elderly ladies to help across the street, not enough destitute children to make toys for, not enough loaves of bread to give to the homeless? I don’t—“

       “My parents’ divorce had just been finalized,” he says, cutting Louis off.  “Everyone was just fine about it, going on where their lives, but I think I got really depressed.  It was probably the worst it’s ever been.  The divorce is the reason we moved to Doncaster.  Yeah, my Mum got a job nearby like, I told you, but she wouldn’t have had to look for a job if she didn’t split up with my Dad.  He decided that it was wise to fuck my mother’s sister.”

       “Why... why are you telling me this,” Louis almost whispers. “Me, of all people.”  As much as he wants to be a part of all of the recesses of Harry’s mind, he doesn’t feel worthy.

       “I trust you,” Harry says quickly.  “There’s something about my friendship with you, Louis, something that works, in the best possible way.  Like, everything fits.  I honestly don’t know why, but I feel like you’re supposed to know everything about me.”

       “That’s not normal,” Louis says, closing his eyes tightly. It sounds rude, but he has no idea what to do.  It’s everything he wants, but nothing he expected.  “This, is not normal,” he hears himself say.

       Harry laughs.  “You think I don’t know that? I’ve had this weird feeling since the day I met you, like this feeling that we’re not meant to be… apart.”

       “Like a soul mate,” Louis whispers without thinking.  It was exactly what he had been thinking for weeks now.

       “Like a soul mate,” Harry echoes.  “As if we’re supposed to be in each other’s lives.  It was preordained by the gods, or something,” Harry says, grinning. He chuckles.  “I feel drawn to you, by something big.”

       “Gravitational pull, Harry. I believe the term you’re looking for is gravitational pull.  It, uh, binds us to the ground, and as occupiers of the earth, I suppose that, yes, technically, it binds us to each other.  Nothing more than that, I’m afraid. Simple science, really.”  A smile plays on his lips.

       “Thank you for the lesson, Bill Nye, but I’m pretty sure you know what I mean.”

       Louis clenches his jaw in an effort not to grin from ear-to-ear, because if he let himself do so, he’s certain that he’d be in serious danger of unhinging his entire face.

       Silence claims the next minute, and it’s perfect.  Harry’s eyes are still on Louis, and the world seems to have stopped spinning momentarily.  Louis blames Harry for that.

      “So?” Harry finally says.

       Louis finds it in him to sit up to face Harry.  He brings his knees up to his chest and rests his head on them.  He finds himself pulling at the grass and ripping the blades from the ground.  He sprinkles a handful of them over Harry’s body before asking, “So, what?”

      “Do you… agree? Don’t make me say it.”

       “Say what?” Louis says, just as quietly as before.

       Harry sits up, mimicking Louis’ position.  His eyes are wide and focused, his lips firmly pressed together.

       “That I like you. A lot.  And I want to be more than friends.  A lot more than friends,” Harry breathes in and then exhales deeply.  It’s like he’s been waiting years to say it, and Louis feels like he’s waited just as long to hear it.  It’s a fair trade.

       Louis throws more grass, and this time some lands in Harry’s mouth.  He spits, and the face he pulls makes Louis want to kiss him, just like everything else.

      “You make everything seem so easy,” Louis says.  “Aren’t you scared?”

      “Of what?” Harry is genuinely puzzled.

       “Everything, everyone. People aren’t particularly good at shutting up about things they don’t like.  And last time I checked, not that many people like the idea of two guys being together.”

       “You’re scared?” Harry says.  He’s more confused than offended, but it’s honestly a fair mixture of both. “Since when is Louis Tomlinson afraid of anything?”

      Louis scrunches his nose when he giggles, meeting Harry’s eyes with disbelief.  Who the fuck does this kid think he is?

       “You’ve known me for like a month, Harry. You can’t possibly thi—“

       “Five weeks, tomorrow,” Harry says, grinning.

       Louis shakes his head in awe.  “You see how fucked up this is? Do you not get it? You’re not supposed to know things like that. My heart isn’t supposed to race when I see you.  I’m not supposed to think about a future with you.  You’re not supposed to have the most perfect timing out of anyone I’ve ever known.” He seems so frustrated, but he’s just overwhelmed.

       “Good.  It means nothing was real before this,” Harry says. “I learned a long time ago that I’m meant to forget everything from before, just so I can function around you.  It’s like, okay, bear with me, with this analogy…but I’ve thought about this for a while. You’re the most complicated maths problem ever… and I happen to know all the formulas except for the one that figures you out.”

       So to Louis, Harry’s the  _Sun_ , but to Harry, Louis’ a math problem.  Okay.

       “Fair enough, but what about you? Nothing about you makes sense either?  I’ve never even  _looked_  at a guy before you, but something about you keeps me glued to your side.  Who the fuck do you think you are?”

       Harry ignores the question, and laughs instead.

       “There’s something here, Louis.” Harry says it with that shit-eating grin, and they both know he’s right.

       Louis lets his head fall to his knees, and he buries his face.  His eyes are closed, and he looks like he’s shaking a bit, and Harry just lets him take it all in.  Nothing has fallen into place better or more quickly, and it’s frightening, because Louis feels like he has no choice but to move forward with Harry.  He doesn’t know if he likes the tug of fate.  It’s a lot, and Harry knows that.

       Minutes pass, Louis’ face is still buried.  Just as he starts to wonder is Harry has left him alone in the field, Louis feels a hand on either of his knees, coaxing them apart.  He spreads his legs and flattens them without question, because this skinny, awkward boy in front of him has just as much power over Louis as he did on the very first day.

       Harry’s wearing that stupid grin again and his arms snake around Louis’ body before pulling him in by the waist.  Louis can hear Harry breathing, slow and steady like a healthy heartbeat.  He’s two years Harry’s senior, but he just allows himself be pulled. Louis thinks it’s just as well, though, because at the moment, his limbs are refusing to function.

      Harry’s eyes are dead set on Louis’ lips, and before he can even register what he’s doing, Louis closes the gap between himself and Harry.  Both of their eyes drift closed right before their lips meet, and when they finally touch, Louis feels his bones shake with the electricity.  One of his hands grabs a fistful of Harry’s hair and tangles itself in the curls, and the other is clinging to the baggy t-shirt that’s hanging from Harry’s body.  Harry’s hands are just as presumptuous as their owner, and both of them are gripping Louis ass.  No complaints, though.  Louis is Harry’s now.  He belonged to Harry long before he admitted it, long before he was even aware.

       Louis lets his tongue wander, and it slips into Harry’s mouth with ease.  It slides over Harry’s in swift, dainty little movements, but dainty quickly turns to desperate.  It’s as if they’re trying to make up for all the lost time.  They stake their claim on each other’s bodies as they move and mold together. No area is left untouched.

       Louis breaks from Harry’s lips and starts kissing Harry’s shoulders and neck, ripping the seams on Harry’s collar to get at the hidden skin.

       “That’s mine,” Louis whispers, sucking a bruise into Harry’s collarbone.

       Harry nods proudly.

       “That’s mine, too,” Louis says, taking Harry’s hand and bringing it to his lips.  He lifts Harry’s shirt a bit and drags his lips along Harry’s stomach. “Mine.”

       He pushes Harry down onto the grass and hovers over him for a moment before swooping down and stealing a kiss.  He places one of his legs between Harry’s, grinding his hips down and making both of their shorts ride up.  He hears Harry groan beneath him and he feels the buck of Harry’s hips as they sought out more friction.  Louis grinds back down, harder now, more sure of himself, and Harry’s hands find their way to Louis’ ass again as they hold the older boy in place.

      “I wanna do something for you,” Louis whispers into Harry’s neck.  Harry’s skin is on fire, and that alone makes it rather difficult for Louis to continue speaking.  It’s amazing to see Harry like this, all worked up because of Louis. Louis’ hips swivel in slow, exaggerated circles before he drags himself down the length of Harry’s body.

     All Harry can do at this point is nod, and Louis smirks at that.  Some of Harry’s hair is sticking to his forehead now, and Louis wipes it away so he can see his face.  He kisses Harry sweetly before confessing,

     “I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing, but I just wanna try.”

       “Anything,” Harry whispers.  That’s all Louis needs to hear.

       He reaches down to Harry’s crotch with one hand and starts massaging it, making Harry lift his hips into his touch.  Within seconds he has a hand down Harry’s shorts, moving the waistband down a bit, and he’s pulling out his cock that’s already half-hard.  He grips at the base and starts stroking in the way he likes it himself, flicking his wrist every now and again and fingering the slit.

       His hands are shaking, just like Harry’s body.  Everything is happening so fast, yet not fast enough.

       Louis winds his way down Harry’s body, and without saying a word, he licks a stripe up the underside of Harry’s dick before taking it all in.  His lips tighten around it, and the drag of it, the rigid back-and-forth, brings Harry the most delicious agony.  He’s fisting at the grass and biting his lip so hard that it might bleed.  His chest floats up off the ground as he arches his back in pleasure, and Louis hums around the length of his cock, coming off with a slight ‘pop’ before going back in.

       Louis is ravenous with it, attacking it like he’s hungry.  He’s desperate to please.  Somehow he’s so confident with it.  His tongue swivels around Harry’s dick in quick and artful circles, and at the moment, to call Harry a mess would be an understatement.  His eyes are screwed shut and he’s trying to pace his breathing, but Louis just doesn’t let up.  He lets his hands help, too, and he’s flicking his wrist and working Harry’s cock in a way that he knows is going to make Harry scream.

       “That feel okay?” he whispers.  His tone is dark, and he’s channeling Harry with his smug little smirk.

       A fervent nod is all he gets in response; it’s the best Harry can do at the moment, and it’s enough.

       Louis ducks down and starts bobbing his head as fast as he can go, slowing down only to take Harry deep. He lets Harry’s cock hit the back of his throat.  At this point, Harry can’t help but look at him, so he raises himself forward and steadies himself on his elbows to get a better view.  His hands find themselves on Louis’ face and in his hair, stroking and petting, saying thank you, in their way.

       He’s close now, Louis’ can tell.  Harry doesn’t have to say anything.  The way he’s breathing, breaths shallow, hitching every now and again, that’s enough to tip Louis off.  He doesn’t let up, and he’s humming around Harry’s dick again, making him groan.  Without a warning, Harry’s hips stutter and he’s in absolute bliss.  His hands tighten in Louis hair, and Louis thinks he hears his own name as Harry shivers through his orgasm. Louis sucks him through it, devouring every drop as he holds Harry steady.

       He brings himself back up Harry’s body and kisses him hard before cuddling into his side.  Harry just sighs contentedly and plants a kiss on Louis forehead, and one on his cheek, his nose, a couple on his neck…

       “I don’t know if I’m supposed to say thank you, or…” Harry giggles.

      Louis looks up at him. His voice is raspy when he says, “I’d rather you not.” He shivers dramatically. “Just…no.” he says, offering Harry a small smile before patting him lightly on the chest.

       Harry shrugs it off with a laugh. “I’m not very experie-“

       “You’re more experienced than me…” Louis says in a small voice.

      “You mean, you haven’t…?”

       Louis shakes his head, and there’s a long pause.

       “Do you…want to?” Harry asks, not expecting anything, but secretly hoping.

       “It’s gonna hurt like hell, isn’t it?”

       “A bit, but it’s worth it.”

       Louis decides he wants to see for himself, and drags Harry back to the camp.  Louis and Harry stumble across where everything’s set up.  Drunk off of each other’s kiss, they stumble over each other, arms linked tightly and legs waddling in an awkward limp. The fire illuminates their faces just enough for them to be recognized, and their friends don’t missed a chance to give them hell.

       “Aye, lads! Finally!” Niall shouts out, clapping.  Zayn takes a break from Liam’s lips to say “Please tell me you’ve finally fucked. I was experiencing pity thirst.” A confused Liam looks on, goofy smile plastered to his face.

       Louis throws a middle finger over his shoulder as he glides past them and is pulled toward Harry’s tent, and this just ups the ante.  The screams go insane, and they’re absolutely obnoxious, and Louis doesn’t give a fuck. He’s with Harry, and whatever they’re about to do, Louis knows that he’ll never regret it.

       The moment the tent is zipped, they’re back at each other, tearing at their clothes in an effort to get closer. There’s no shame in any of it. They just want to know each other. There naïve, but not nervous.

       Soon enough, nothing is between them, and the friction is almost blinding.

       “Fuck,” Louis spits.  Harry’s moaning beneath him, and his cock is trapped beneath both of their legs like before, and the feeling is absolutely insane.  Harry flips them over, putting himself on top, in control. He reaches into his duffel bag for something, and Louis hears a bottle clicking open and then closed again.

       “Are you ready?” he says.  His voice is thick.

       Louis sees no other choice but to say yes.  He’s come this far, he thinks, to turn back now would be the biggest waste.  He reaches for one of Harry’s hands, and laces their fingers together as Harry massages his entrance.  He breathes in sharp when Harry pushes in, bracing himself for the pain.  It’s only pressure, and he lets himself exhale a little.  It’s a shaky breath, but it’ll do.

      Harry’s gentle with him, letting his finger glide in and out slowly, peppering his skin with kisses all the while.  Before long, he’s adding a second finger, and Louis tries his best not to wince.  Harry keeps stretching him, whispering a string of praises in his ear, and that’s enough for Louis to decide that he wants Harry, now.

       “Please,” Louis groans. “Nownownownow… please, Harry,” he struggles.  “Can’t you just…put it inside me?” he says.

       Harry’s knees buckle at that.  He’s speechless, but his face is worry-stricken.

        “—No.  Now. I don’t care, I just need it,” Louis says more confidently, reading Harry’s mind.  He has no idea but he’s asking for, but he can’t seem to stop himself.

       Harry preps himself well and pushes in slow, eyes glued to Louis.  He’s checking to see whether he should stop, whether the pain is just too much for Louis to take, but Louis is just lying there, taking it.  A vein is popping out on his neck, and his chin is tilted up slightly as he swears under his breath.

       It’s so slow that it’s torture for the both of them, anticipation weighing heavier than the pain or the desire to come. Louis’ hand scrambles for Harry’s in the dark, and once they’re holding each other, everything feels just as it’s meant to.

       “You can go faster, you know,” Louis says.  It sounds like a challenge.

       It’s dark in the tent, but Louis can just feel Harry smiling, and he just wants to be as close to Harry as he possibly can. He can’t tolerate any distance between them, only skin.

       Harry runs a gentle hand from Louis’ hip to his ankle before hooking Louis’ leg over his shoulder.  Louis winces a little at the stretch but says nothing, waiting for what Harry’s about to do.

       Biting his lip, Harry pushes in completely. It’s slow, but it’s deliberate, and it’s everything Louis’ been waiting for— the fullness… the closeness. It’s nothing short of mind-blowing.  For a moment, there’s nothing: no movement, no words, just awe, and there’s nothing missing.

       A deep breath is the only thing that cuts the silence before Harry almost pulls all the way out, before slamming right back in.  Louis almost has the wind knocked out of him, but he doesn’t dare complain.  He slides up a bit, and slams himself back down onto Harry’s cock.  It’s awkward, and it’s messy, and they have no idea what the hell they’re even doing, but they’re together, finding each other out.  They’re just trying to figure out what feels best, and at this point, it’s pretty much everything.

       “Fuck, Harry,” Louis whispers. “Christ.”

       Harry can’t even form words, because he’s too busy trying to find a rhythm.  Once he finds it, though, he’s absolutely relentless, and he’s releasing the most ungodly moans, as if he’s trying to cover up the sound of skin slapping against slick skin.

       “Ther-therethere, there.” The words fall out of Louis’ mouth in broken syllables, like they’re being knocked out of him, one by one.

       Harry is flat against Louis now, and his hips have yet to slow down their movements.  His cheek is fever-hot, and it’s pressed up against’ Louis’.  His mouth is in the shape of an “O” and his breathing is quick but labored.  Louis can hear it, and he can feel the quiver of Harry’s chest, and all of it is just bringing him closer to the edge.  He wants to touch himself so much that he thinks he might fall apart if he doesn’t.

        Louis pulls Harry in for a kiss, and whispers “Touch me,” before letting Harry go.  “Please, I’ll fucking lose my mind,” he says.

       At that, Harry moves Louis’ leg from its place on his shoulder and back to its place on the ground and spreads Louis’ legs apart, all without pulling out.  He uses one hand to tightly grip Louis’ thigh, and he tries to refrain from digging his nails into the skin.  He hovers over Louis, taking Louis’ cock into his hands.  He gives it a few tentative tugs before restarting the movements of his hips.

       Louis strains his eyes in the dark, trying his best to see Harry’s face, even though he’s already got it memorized.  He reaches up and puts a hand on Harry’s cheek and strokes his thumb across it before moving his hand down to Harry’s back and he digs his nails in, secretly hoping that it leaves a mark.

        Like the protector that he is, Harry’s body curves in around Louis as he pounds into him, and Louis can’t help but recognize how much smaller he is than the younger boy.  Something about the whole thing makes him feel safe, like he can trust Harry to take care of him, so he seeks shelter in Harry’s shadow.

       Harry’s wrists flick and twist as they pump Louis’ cock, and they both know he won’t last much longer.  He keeps fucking Louis right through it, trying desperately to hit that special spot again.  He leans in almost impossibly close, and he discovers that Louis’ eyes are shut.

      “Open your eyes, I wanna see your face when I make you come,” he says.  His voice sounds absolutely wrecked, and he’s almost out of breath, but Louis hears him well enough to obey. He spreads his thighs even more than he thought was possible, so much that it hurts him a bit, all to get Harry in even deeper.  Then it hits him.  His eyes widen as his orgasm steals his breath.  His vision blurs for a moment and he just feels warm all over, even though he looks like he’s shivering.  It’s like static, and the aftershocks won’t stop coming.  Harry just holds him; it’s all he can do as he tries to keep it together.  He doesn’t last long, though, and the sight of Louis completely does him in.  His eyes roll back and he groans deep in his throat as he comes, deep inside Louis.

       It takes a second before Harry thinks to pull out, but he does.  He strips of the condom and snuggles into Louis’ side, wrapping an arm around him.  Louis’ protector.

      They lay together in silence, and nothing feels wrong.


End file.
